


Shakin' Your Walls

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s put it off to the very last moment, layering tops at the office, pulling on Oliver’s sweatshirts every spare moment they’re home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shakin' Your Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Again, inspiration strikes close to home (this time in having to switch my clothes out of storage). Now if only I could have my own Oliver...
> 
> Title from Sugarland's _All We Are_.

Stepping around a pile of sleeveless tops, she rocks up on her toes, stretching to make sure nothing is hiding on the shelf of her closet. Various seasonal clothing surrounds her feet, shorts tossed in a corner, scarves bunched in a heap. The switch needs to happen but organizing it all practically—what works best now in the dipping temperatures of Starling City versus what defines her wardrobe in the scorching heat of July—is somewhat overwhelming.

Which explains why she’s put it off to the very last moment, layering tops at the office, pulling on Oliver’s sweatshirts every spare moment they’re home.

Shoving an already towering pile of tees to the back of the shelf, she moves to pull a sweater down, cursing as the whole section of shirts comes with it.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” She kicks the heap out of the way, connecting with a sandal in the process.

It lands against the wall of the closet with a resounding thunk and she knows that even at the other end of the house he’ll have noticed it.

Sure enough, she’s just balled up the troublesome sweater when his voice cuts through the wall.

“...the hell was that? And where are you?” Even with the muffled quality, she can hear the panic edging into his voice and, for a moment, it smooths the irritation coursing through her. “I thought you were digging out gloves and shit for—”

He almost trips through the doorway, exhaling harshly as his honed gaze sweeps around the room.

She’s literally in the middle of the closet, clothes spread out as if they’re circling her, just waiting to pounce, and he presses his lips together, hysterical relief flooding through him.

“It’s ridiculous.” Her hand waves violently, gesturing to the jumbled mass that is her wardrobe. “I have all this room and I _still_ need to rearrange twice a year to account for the change in seasons?! Why can’t I have one of those magic trunks like Harry Potter?”

“I think you’d probably still have to keep it organized.”

“I could just _accio_ whatever I was looking for though; it’d be much simpler.”

“Well, Mrs. Queen, since I don’t see your Hogwarts letter arriving anytime soon, we’ll just have to come up with another solution.” he pushes into the room, laughter finally breaking free as she scowls at him and crouches down, tossing summer clothes rapidly over her shoulder. “Maybe we could take out your home office, knock down the separating wall, and put in a motorized track for hangers to move on.”

“Do not threaten my computers!”

She pauses her sorting for a moment, eyes narrowing as she snags the lone sandal in front of her and pitches it towards him.

He catches it easily, amusement warring with pride as she lifts an eyebrow and resumes her work.

Never one to back down, his Felicity.

It's one of the many reasons he loves her.

Still, he loves her in these shoes, too. He’d like them to stay in one piece.

“Ok, what’d the shoes do to you?”

Her reply is some strange blend of a resigned sigh and a growl and it makes his breath hitch.

Picking his way to where she’s now sitting, he kneels down next to her. “Everything ok?”

She blows out a breath, hands still separating clothes. “Yes, it’s just one of those things that once you start you can’t stop and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. Not to mention, I was really hoping we could spend the day together without any stress—work or otherwise—and now I’ve ruined it. Not even a Time Turner will sa—”

Hand halting her movement, he pulls her into him, his mouth crashing against hers. "There’s... plenty... of time...”

She stills for a moment and then she’s pressing him backward, hands skating down his body as her legs bracket his.

He lands against the pile of scarves with a sigh, his heart racing as the low light of the closet catches in her hair and she tugs at the hem of his shirt.

Pushing up on his elbows, he grins as she pulls it over his head, adding it to the pile around them. Her nails rake over his shoulders and he groans as she shifts closer, her teeth pulling at his lower lip as she rocks against him.

Cupping her face, he deepens the kiss. It’s all heat, rough and desperate and _moremoremore_ until she gasps against him, her fingers tunneling through his hair. It disrupts her rhythm and he lets his hands settle low on her hips, guiding her as heat flares down his spine and his eyes slam shut.

“Shit.” She breathes it against his jaw, tongue stroking over his as his hands dip under her shirt, pressing into the small of her back and—

A damn rack of shoes topple on top of them.

Hands still clutching at him, she tips her head. “What the...”

Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, and it takes him a long moment to realize that in his haste to bring her closer, to make her forget, his elbow has bumped the shelves causing the avalanche.

Grunting, he stands, tugging her to her feet seconds later. “This...” He kicks the offending shoes out of their way. “Can wait.”

She gasps in mock horror, thumb brushing over the inside of his wrist as she follows after him, laughing. “Watch it, those are my favorites!”

“Don’t care.” They stumble into the room, his mouth dragging lazy kisses across her jaw. “I’ll get you a new pair. Ten pairs. Right now...” He grins as her head tips back, laughter dancing in her eyes as he slams the closet door shut. “...busy making some magic...”

**Author's Note:**

> (one of these times I won't interrupt them...)


End file.
